


Her Life in a Nutshell

by Traycer



Category: Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Sequence, Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-06
Updated: 2012-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-29 01:59:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/314606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traycer/pseuds/Traycer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life can be peculiar sometimes... Sarah contemplates her life.  Seven drabbles based on the days of the week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Life in a Nutshell

He was on born on a Sunday. Tiny and loud, his shrill screams filled the air as I lay there panting and happy. But he was perfect and I only wished his father had lived long enough to look down on his son's beautiful face.

John. His name was chosen for him even before he was conceived - or so it seemed. But it fit him somehow. I stared at his face with wonder. So tiny, yet destined to be a savior to the survivors of a war that hadn't started yet.

John the Conqueror. I will teach him well.

 

* ~ * ~ *

 

The playgrounds we went to always seemed to end up being battlefields. Every Monday, John would play on the swings and the slides, his face split in a huge grin whenever he rode the merry go round. He would hang onto the bars and lean back as far as he could, laughing with delight as the world spun around in dizzying circles.

But there was always something sinister hanging over the playground visits. Fueled more by my nightmares than anything, I watched for any signs that would foretell a future bleak with death while John played soldier in the sand.

 

* ~ * ~ *

 

Tuesday nights were family nights when we lived with Michael. He was an expert in weapons and ammunition which is why I put up with the games and "quality time" he insisted on. I put up with a lot more than that from Michael, but we needed the knowledge he was willing to give, and John need some sense of normalcy in his life.

Normalcy. What a joke. I used to watch my son as he practiced cleaning and loading the various guns lying around. Ten years old and already an expert. Normal isn't the word most people would use.

 

* ~ * ~ *

 

John was 13 when I was hospitalized in that institution. It was hard to be away from him, never knowing if he was safe or in danger of being eliminated by a terminator. I needed to be with him, no matter what it took.

Unfortunately, the doctor saw through all my attempts to prove I was sane. Sometimes I think he wanted to keep me there for his own purposes, but in the end it didn't matter. I found my freedom after a regular Wednesday afternoon session and ran straight into another nightmare.

Fortunately, this one came to protect John.

 

* ~ * ~ *

 

Love was hard to find, especially when I was on the run so much. But Charley was different. He believed in me and was a good father to John, a good man who didn't deserve to be saddled with us.

That's part of the reason I finally left him.

But life doesn't always follow the path we travel. Charley came back into our lives and turned everything upside down. John wanted to protect him. I wanted to be with him again.

No matter. I left him on a Thursday and he died on a Thursday. Life can be peculiar sometimes.

 

* ~ * ~ *

 

When I was young, I used to live for Friday nights. My friends and I would party all night long even if it meant waking up to lasting regrets. Now I only live to make sure my son survives.

But sometimes I think of those days. Memories brought back by a song or a picture that pulls me back to a simpler time when my destiny was a mystery, along with a vague notion of a husband and children...

Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like without the constant terror that I wake up to these days.

 

* ~ * ~ *

 

There's blood everywhere. I look down at the body on the ground, glad that there's one less machine to come after us. But a nagging dread fills me as I process the sounds in the night air.

"John?"

No answer, only the distant screams of sirens. Frantic, I search for my son only to stop short when he steps out from behind a truck. He shrugs off Cameron's grip and looks around while I breathe a sigh of relief. He is unharmed.

"Typical Saturday night?"

I can only nod. My son is safe for now. This is what I live for.


End file.
